Labels: Sacred Bones
Review by: Alex Deller
Friend and I could’ve gone to see this lot play in some proper venue but instead saw them at the Design Museum as part of a punk exhibition, either just before or just after Brix from The Fall/Gok’s Fashion Fix did a talk about her book. Their singer jumped about a lot and it was all quite fun, made more so by the fact that in the background a load of clucky middle class folk were having a jolly old time making punk banners or shirts or something, Pritt Sticking glitter and studs onto upside-down Union Jack flags while never needing to worry about having a stranger piss on their shoes. It was rejuvenating and made me feel alive like few experiences since, and definitely didn’t make me question the validity and ongoing relevance of the artform into which I plough so much free time and disposable income. Anyway, this is the latest of quite a few Institute records, some of which I’ve heard and some of which I haven’t. It’s engaging and accomplished and very well put together, and definitely the record of theirs that I’ve listened to the most. The guitars pulse and burn like a shit of a fever that forbids you from sleeping. The singer knows how to deliver a snarkily eloquent line while affecting an air of resolute detachment and indifference. It’s almost like if Crime got their shit together but didn’t go new wave when they did. Or if Crisis somehow went Black Flag rather than fascist folk. Or if Regulations were American and studied old bands on the internet a bit harder. Something like that, anyway. And what else is there to say? Here’s to the next 40 years of punk, baby, that’s what!